


Felicidus Aria

by Heavenbat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenbat/pseuds/Heavenbat
Summary: A shameless retelling of Beauty and the Beast, starring Dorian and Iron Bull.





	1. Prologue

Once upon a time there was a band of mercenaries led by a fearsome warrior. He was a handsome Qunari with a Bull’s strength and a Bull’s fury, and though he was often jovial, his good nature was forever only a moment away from being eclipsed by wrath. And eclipse it did, his rage exploding in deadly and often monstrous ways.

The Bull and his company had no shortage of work given to them; in the cutthroat Empire of Orlais, there was always need for bloodshed. Nobles would pay the Bull handsomely for his brutality, and he would take all that they gave, a false smile hiding the rage burning just below the surface. One such noble gifted him with a fortress hidden in the harsh desert, and the Bull accepted despite knowing the gift was not so generous as it would seem. He knew the noble had no use for the fortress, that the fortress had been as good as abandoned for years, that the noble no longer wished to pay for the taxes on the godforsaken land. Still, it would make for a good base of operations for his company, and so he played the fool and took the land.

And so the Bull and his company occupied this fortress among the howling sands, and there they lived for quite some time. Despite the inhospitable environment, they grew comfortable. The rugged environment suited them, reflected them. And, best of all, it deterred any unwanted visitors. The Bull and his company could retreat in isolation, in solitude, locking the rest of the world away.

Until one fateful night when everything changed.

A knock sounded at the fortress’s great wooden door, and when the Bull opened the door he found a mage standing before him. The mage had scars lacing his skin in deliberate patterns and was disheveled, confused, and covered in blood, begging for help. He claimed he was lost and was simply looking for refuge from the cold desert night on his way home.

The Bull turned him away with a sneer; there was something off about the mage that set the Bull's hair on end, and he could tell that the blood on the mage’s hands was partially his own. He told the mage he had no interest in allowing a _bas saarebas_ into his sanctuary. Especially not one who danced with demons.

The mage’s eyes hardened, and he warned the Bull to reconsider. As a show of good faith, and as a token of his gratitude, he offered a single, rare flower in return for help--a _felicidus aria_ , the most fragrant and resilient of flowers. The mage claimed that it had come from his own personal garden, and that he felt it was an adequate compensation for a single night of refuge.

When the Bull scoffed and once again turned the mage away, threatening to kill him if he didn’t leave, the mage’s appearance burned away in a flash of purple fire.

For the mage was not a mage at all, but rather a demon--one of Desire. Purple flames curled and flickered between a set of impressive, curving horns as Desire raised his hand and pointed at the Bull, his tail lashing behind him in fury.

Desire laid a powerful curse upon the Bull, his fortress, and everyone inside it. Magic twisted across from the Fade, contorting the fortress and its occupants. As the curse was laid, the Bull’s form twisted and melted into that of a demon of Rage, fire and lava and ash replacing flesh and bone.

“ _If you cannot get another mortal to truly love you for who you are before this aria withers and dies, then you shall remain in this form forever_ ,” Desire told the Bull. And then the demon disappeared in a flourish of flame, leaving the Bull and his company to fall into hopelessness as the fortress disappeared from memory among the shifting sands.


	2. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian finds himself wishing for a change of pace. Felix finds himself wishing for less of one.

Dorian couldn’t help but smile as he read the latest letter from Felix. Ever since Felix, his best and only friend, had gone to the University of Orlais, Dorian had been left mostly alone and friendless. Thankfully, Felix had gotten into the habit of sending frequent letters. Dorian appreciated each and every one of them; they were bright spots of happiness in his otherwise dull life.

Not to say that his life was without excitement. There seemed to have been an increase in assassination attempts lately, and tension between him and his father had only been intensifying as time went on, despite the distance between them. No, the main problem was that he’d fallen into a rut. Even the assassinations had ended up becoming routine, almost. Felix’s letters, therefore, were a treasured glimmer of distraction. Sometimes he could almost imagine being there with his friend, and sometimes he considered simply leaving everything behind to go join him in Orlais.

But he had obligations here, duties to Alexius and whatnot. Research wasn’t going to do itself. So he simply settled for re-reading the letter for the third time that day.

_My friend,_

_You wouldn’t believe what just happened! I was talking to one of the instructors about dwarven ruins, and she told me there were some here in Orlais. I lamented that I wouldn’t get to go see them, since I’m not overly fond of the idea of going underground for that long. But then she said that there were actually dwarven ruins_ _above_ _ground! Imagine that, Dorian! And then she told me about how there was actually a research expedition out in the ruins that was in need of a couple of volunteers (after some of their previous researchers quit), so naturally I signed up._

_I’m honestly surprised, though, at the lack of interest. It didn’t look like there were many others who volunteered, for some reason. But if I’m honest, I’m mostly only going for the architecture. I’ve heard that dwarven constructions are a marvel of mathematics, with perfect precision in their right angles. I mean, obviously Tevinter has some wonders of architecture as well, but--_

Dorian skipped ahead about a page; Felix rambled on for quite some time about the wonders of architecture, complete with (hastily drawn) diagrams. At one point he even included a drawing of a right angle, helpfully labeled. Felix had a habit of labeling everything, of which Dorian was grateful because Felix’s ‘drawings’ were often almost indecipherable. Dorian fully planned on sticking that particular page to the wall of his study, if only because it brought a smile to his face every time.

Finding the end of Felix’s architectural ramblings, he continued reading.

_I’m also going to see if I can find any neat historical finds or notes of interest, and if I do I’ll take extensive notes and send them all directly to you. I know how much you love that sort of thing!_

_Really wish you were coming with me, though. I’ll admit I’m a bit nervous about going with so few people. I mean, I don’t think it’s going to be too dangerous, but three people seems a bit light, doesn’t it? Ah well. I’m sure they wouldn’t send us off on this expedition if it was too dangerous, right?_

_Anyways, I better get packing. It’s apparently going to be a pretty long trip. I’ll make sure to write to you as soon as possible!_

_As always,_

_Felix_

_P.S. - If you’re in the library when you read this, go get yourself a snack. I know how you forget to eat sometimes!_

Dorian sighed and folded the letter back up. He tucked the piece of parchment into one of his shirt’s many inner pockets and stood up, once more becoming aware of the world around him. As a matter of fact, he was _not_ in the library--a fact which he would have gleefully told Felix, had he been here.

No, he was simply sitting on a rather elaborate bench in the midst of the Alexius’ estate grounds. Magister Alexius was hosting a soiree, and Dorian had chosen to excuse himself for a while. While he enjoyed a good party as much as the next man, these events had started to feel just as hollow as everything else.

Plus, his father had just shown up, and he found himself keenly wanting to be anywhere else. If he had to hazard a guess, Halward Pavus was currently interrogating Magister Alexius on Dorian's progress. 

Absentmindedly, he found himself running his fingers over the letter once more. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little worried about Felix going on this expedition on his own, but then again, surely the university wouldn’t send him into obvious danger. At least, he hoped as much.

It had been roughly a week since he’d received this latest letter, and with each passing day he found himself becoming more and more nervous. With a heavy sigh, he leaned on the railing separating the small patio from the rest of the estate grounds.

He remembered the first time he’d looked out over these grounds, over the beautiful and immaculate gardens. It had been roughly a day or so after first coming to the Alexius estate, after Magister Alexius had found him and decided to take him on as an apprentice. Not long after that, he’d met Felix, and they had very quickly become friends. Though Felix had next to no magical talents, he was a brilliant (if absent-minded) man, and the two had spent countless hours discussing various academics. Felix had a special talent and appreciation for mathematics, which both baffled and amused Dorian. He could (and had) listened to Felix enthuse for hours on the beauty of numbers. And in return, Felix had listened to his impassioned rants on history and magical theory.

But then Dorian had gone to study at Minrathous, and by the time he returned, Felix had already left for the University of Orlais.

After that, Dorian’s life had settled into a fairly predictable schedule. The structure was nice, yes, but it was still…. Stifling. Even with helping Magister Alexius with his attempts at breaking known magical limits, Dorian couldn’t help but feel like he was stagnating.

 

* * *

 

Sand. Why was there so much _blasted_ sand? Felix felt as if it had infiltrated every fold of his clothes. Maker, he even felt like it’d become infused into his very flesh. _Now_ he understood why so few people had volunteered. Somehow they’d all caught wind that this blasted expedition was going to be in the Hissing Wastes, a fact which had been carefully omitted from any of the sign-up sheets.

He cursed whoever had set this thing up, then cursed himself for not at the very least asking _where_ this thing was going to be.

It was hot and sandy and _miserable_ . And then at night it was _cold_ and sandy and miserable. Why couldn’t the desert at least pick a temperature and stick to it? Worst of all, though, were his traveling companions. Both of the others seemed to have been hoping to use this as some sort of romantic getaway (Maker only knew why they chose a desolate wasteland for that) because more than once he had caught them either in full makeout sessions or else giving him not-so-subtle glances that made it clear they didn’t really want him around. Not in a mean way, to be fair, but it was off-putting nonetheless. So he’d settled into giving them as much space as possible, hoping that once they finally reached the joined up with the rest of the expedition the other two would be more open to working as a full team.

In the meantime, he’d continue to be the awkward third wheel and would complain incessantly under his breath to his horse. As soon as he got back to the University, he was going to write Dorian a long, long letter. Of course he’d play up the dramatics a bit, if only to entertain Dorian. Though maybe he’d take a nice, long bath before doing any writing. Preferably one scented with some extract of _vandal aria;_ he’d picked some at the last camp they’d made, entranced by its rose-like scent and its resilience to the harsh desert.

Lost in his daydreams of the nice, relaxing spa day he planned to have upon returning to the University, Felix didn’t notice he’d lagged further behind the other two than usual, his horse taking advantage of his inattention to slow to practically a shuffle.

He also didn’t notice the shadow moving across the sand until his horse suddenly spooked. With a terrified whinny, it reared and took off. Felix barely managed to cling to the horse, throwing his arms around its neck in a panic and holding on for dear life. He glanced over his shoulder to see what had spooked the horse, and felt his heart leap up into his throat. It was a wyvern; he recognized the huge reptiles from artwork and statues. The creature was shorter than the horse, but notably longer. It was skittering across the sand at an alarming pace, jaws snapping at its prey--him. Luckily, though, his horse seemed to be faster. Slowly, they began to pull away from the wyvern.

Felix relaxed slightly and shifted his weight backwards, trying to readjust himself in the saddle so he could try to regain control of the horse. And then, behind him, the wyvern screeched. Moments later, the horse once again pivoted and let out what sounded terrifyingly like a scream. This time Felix was unable to keep his grip and he was thrown from the horse. In the split second as he was falling, he saw a second wyvern snap at his horse. And then he hit the ground with a painful thud and started rolling.

He desperately tried to stop himself by clawing at the sand, but it was all too loose to get a good grip on and his hands came away empty as he tumbled down the side of the dune. Finally he simply gave up and curled in on himself until he eventually stopped moving.

Coughing and wincing, he rolled onto his front and gingerly pushed himself up. He could feel sand streaming off him and knew he’d be digging it out of his clothes for weeks. Maybe it’d be better to just burn the things. Once he was upright (which took a bit of doing; nothing felt broken, but he was sure he’d have some bruises) he looked back up the dune. He could see exactly where he’d fallen, the trail of his ungraceful fall imprinted into the sand.

For a moment, all was quiet. And then a wyvern poked its head over the side of the dune and Felix’s stomach twisted up into knots. Blood was smeared across its face, dripping from its mandibles.He wasn’t sure if it saw him, but he wasn’t about to wait to find out. He scrambled to his feet and ran.

And then, miraculously, unbelievably, he saw something in the distance, a great stone building rising from the sand. Praying that it wasn’t a mirage, he altered his course towards it. As he drew closer, he began to make out more and more details. Strangely enough, it looked as if someone had taken an Orlesian estate and plopped it down into the desert. Though the sands had risen up halfway up the walls encircling the place, he could see that the inner grounds were amazingly sand-free. It even looked like there was a well-manicured garden inside.

Felix glanced over his shoulder, and instantly regretted it. An entire pack of wyverns had appeared now, and they were now all streaming down the side of the dune in pursuit of him. Sheer terror lent him speed, and he ran faster than he had ever run before. With each passing moment the building before him seemed to solidify, to become more real and tangible, until he was sure it was no mirage.

“Help!” he called out. If there was such a well-maintained garden, surely there was someone inside. Someone who probably knew how to deal with wyverns. “Help me!”

He could hear the wyverns now, their chittering sending cold waves of fear down his spine. Maker, he didn’t want to die like this. Resisting the urge to look behind him again--now he could hear the thundering of their paws on the sand, louder even than the sound of his own pulse roaring in his ears--he poured every last bit of strength into one final burst of speed. He made it through the open gates and halfway to the garden before he simply collapsed, legs giving out beneath him. In a fit of desperation, he reached out to grab a rock from the garden he’d fallen in front of and twisted around, ready to defend himself.

But the wyverns weren’t there.

They had skidded to a stop just outside the gates, hissing and spitting but not drawing any closer. One of them had settled into pacing restlessly in front of the gate. Occasionally, it lifted its head and hissed at him, rattling its crest in a clear display of aggression. But for whatever reason, it (and all the others) refused to step inside.

Felix suddenly had a very bad feeling about this place.


End file.
